


Collision Course

by panpipe



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpipe/pseuds/panpipe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The urgency of his escape filters into Charles' mind, translating Erik's scrambled thoughts to what he really means: <i>If you don't leave Charles now, you won't be able to escape this unscathed</i>.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Charles knows it's already too late for that, has known since that night, that neither he nor Erik will ever be the same--whether they part now or later. So he'd rather part later.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collision Course

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my bfffffff for looking at this fic and saying, "I enjoyed it, but what the heck were you trying to _do_ with it?" Without her this would have been left half-finished.

_Sometime in the near future_

His students-turned-warriors are always confused the first time they hear their dear Professor Xavier call Magneto an old friend. After all, it's completely unfathomable that the two could ever be friends with two ideologies so fantastically opposed--there simply could be no way the two men could overcome it.

And there wasn't a way, really, not in the end. It was just that until the moment they were forced to choose where their ideologies would take them, they chose to be with each other.

 

_The middle of the ocean, 1962_

Their entire relationship is unexpected. Its beginning, especially. Charles, after nearly thirty years of being smarter than everyone around him (and he can say this now because he has a PhD and therefore has the paper to back up his ego, he thinks defensively, as if this were yet another conversation with Raven on the subject), has accepted he will never meet anyone quite like himself--certainly not someone as quick, as cunning, as sharp.

That is, until he plunges into the ocean to save an insanely powerful mutant, a mutant who unfortunately cannot realize the limits of his power.

And there are times when, for all of Charles' control, he can't help bleeding into someone's mind during a telepathic outreach--just as there are also times when he can't prevent someone's mind from bleeding into his.

Usually, when someone's mind bleeds into his own, it happens because the other person is especially troubled, haunted by terrifying images of their past, or terrifying images of their present, or--well, terrifying thoughts of anything, really, so long as they are gripped by an uncontrollable fear. It can also happen when the other person is a force of nature--their very thoughts forming with such confidence that they leak out into everything around them, formed with such strength that nothing can contain them. This particular mutant is both, so it's impossible to keep the other man's mind separate from his own as Charles reaches out telepathically to the man in the water. Charles dives in and reaches out to make the connection, and suddenly a flood of images slam into his consciousness, almost silencing his mind's own voice--the hatred for Shaw, the path for revenge, the people he has killed along the way and the many more he is willing to murder, all for the sake of avenging his mother's death. His mother and father, faint memories of their happiness, even in hiding. The death, the coin--

Charles wishes he could take a breath to steady his mind, but under water that's impossible. Instead Charles grips the man--Erik, he now knows--tighter, in an attempt to anchor himself to reality. Charles can't remember what he says to get Erik to let go, but he is frantically thinking, "Calm down, calm yourself, we'll drown, please be calm."

When they surface, Charles sees the familiar look of terror and confusion reflected in the other man's expression. The terror every relative, every friend, every schoolteacher held before Charles realized that telepathy wasn't "possible" or "normal".

"Get off me, _get off_!" Erik says, shoving Charles away. After the brief journey inside the other man's mind, he knows the reaction is because Erik likes being the one in power, can't stand not being in control--and in this moment he has experienced an invasion so personal he feels threatened. "You were in my head. How did you do that?"

Charles, knowing that the longer they spend in this water, the closer they come to hypothermia, has been attempting to hail the ship, and at the question, turns back to face him. He is thankful Erik does not know the extent of how deeply Charles was in his memories. 

Ultimately, he replies, "You have your tricks; I have mine." Charles feels the storm inside Erik's head still raging, can feel it pushing back at him, rejecting him. "I'm like you," he says, hoping to gain a measure of Erik's trust. "Just _calm your mind_ ," Charles adds, and with those words, he throws in a little _push_ to the sentence.

He almost feels guilty at the coercion, but argues that it will help save both their lives if he can just get Erik to trust him and _get the hell out of this freezing ocean_.

Erik is quieter when he replies, "I thought I was alone."

And Erik did. Charles feels the wave of loneliness, the realization that you truly are alone in the world--no parents, and different from all the others, not just through experience, but through design. It reverberates in Charles' head, and for a second he is once more that lonely boy, raised by nannies-- _that must have been so hard_ , a voice says with a bitter laugh, and for some reason he hears it in Erik's voice, feels that if he were to complain to Erik, Erik would rightly scoff at the loneliness Charles experienced--wandering his kitchen at night with a baseball bat. Even as that quackpot genetics student, with outlandish theories and no way to prove they have already come true, he felt so utterly alone. It doesn't matter how many times he comforts himself with Raven's presence, with the knowledge that she understands his plight--it has never truly comforted him.

"You're not alone," Charles finally says. "Erik, you're not alone."

The repetition is more to remind himself that the phrase is true for Charles as well. He knows Erik Lensherr now, knows everything about him--everything that is important, and even everything that's not--knows that this man is the equal he has been waiting for.

 

_A top secret CIA facility, later that week_

When Erik realizes that Charles can do more than project his thoughts into another's mind--can actually _read someone's thoughts_ \--he eyes Charles warily, as though once Charles sees what is in Erik's mind, Charles will reject him, will despise him, will demolish every sense of belonging Erik has grappled onto from this experience. Charles doesn't need to be a mind-reader to know what Erik is thinking--he learned enough from the brief touch of their minds to know Erik's fear.

So Charles is not surprised when Erik breaks into the file room and neatly packs away all the files on Sebastian Shaw, intent to leave; he only wonders that it took Erik so long. Erik has been on edge since his arrival, since he was pulled up onto the CIA boat and greeted with men with guns who were visibly terrified by the display of power they had just been shown. (Charles had hurriedly pulled Erik into a private room on the ship, so they could discuss their powers, their lives, what their futures could hold, without being interrupted by those whose fear might poison the tenuous connection the two had formed.) The terror that still gripped the men at the facility chafed at Erik's composure; each time an agent lashed out with a derogatory remark, Charles felt Erik's control slip away--come close to hurting or maiming them--then quickly be put back in place after a quick glance at Charles.

What _does_ surprise him, however, is how easily Erik's thoughts--get out, get out, be quiet, leave without a trace, don't let them follow, Charles will stop you, _go now_ , don't let him stop you--wake Charles from his sleep. The urgency of his escape filters into Charles' mind, translating Erik's scrambled thoughts to what he really means: _If you don't leave Charles now, you won't be able to escape this unscathed_.

Charles knows it's already too late for that, has known since that night, that neither he nor Erik will ever be the same--whether they part now or later. So he'd rather part later.

When Erik walks briskly out of the CIA, Charles steps out from the shadows of the building, and for a brief moment, Charles considers whispering his will, forcing him to stay--just like he did that first night. It wouldn't _really_ hurt anyone if he did so, a dark voice in his mind whispers. It's a dark voice that Charles hears too often, at the edges of his thoughts, remnants of all the things he has seen others do to their fellow human beings. Why shouldn't he, just once, be someone other than the better man? Force someone to do what he wants them to, for purely selfish reasons, rather than the usual noble ones?

But Charles knows it would be an empty victory, a hollow companionship.

"From what I know about you, I'm surprised you've managed to stay this long," he says softly.

Erik laughs, derision in his voice. "And what do you know about me?" The incredulity in his voice sets Charles on edge. He knows Erik is referencing the gaps in their experience--Charles's charmed life, versus Erik's pain and suffering. He knows, he knows that Erik is right to believe there is a deep gap between them that cannot be overcome. And yet, Charles is irked, is outraged, is set adrift by the idea that this man he feels so close to could think they were miles apart.

"Everything," Charles says without hesitation--something he'd never meant to reveal, but the anger and betrayal at Erik's leaving gets the better of him. He lets his power reach Erik, trying to be calmer than he feels, trying to say, _It's alright. I know it all--your anger, your rage, your willingness to do whatever it takes--and I still accept you as you are._

 

Erik stays.

What the Man in Black does not know, however, is that when he walks into the room, Erik's eyes lock onto Charles with such intensity that Charles hears loudly in his mind's eye, _I hope you hear what I am about to say. I hope you know it is only for you I would submit myself to this treatment._

He feels Erik's unease, prickled by the sense of being caged up by these government bureaucrats. Charles gives an almost imperceptible nod, and the determination in Erik's jaw indicates he understands that Charles heard him.

 _We are prisoners of our own making here,_ Erik continues, _and I will not pretend to enjoy it or trust them._

 

It is soon officially decided: Charles and Erik will work together to collect the mutants discovered by the use of Cerebro.

Moira pulls Charles aside before their first trip to collect the young stripper he has identified. It's funny, because she almost looks like a mother scolding her child as she talks to him. The idea is ridiculous, of course. There is no way Moira could hope to have the superior intellect to provide any kind of sage, motherly counsel. No one has been able to for a long, long time.

"I want the two of you on your best behavior--Charles, nothing like the bar I met you at. This is an official government mission."

"I _know_ , Moira," Charles replies with a laugh. It's funny, how even as a telepath, people's words and thoughts can still surprise him. Whatever he was expecting from Moira, that hadn't been it. "Don't you trust me?"

She scowls, and her eyes narrow. "I trust _you_ , yes," she says. Then she glances around, and lowers her voice. "It's Erik I don't trust. He's like a--a-- I don't know, a bomb about to explode."

Charles bristles at her judgement of Erik, but at the same time is comforted that Moira has voiced the thoughts and fears he'd been expecting from the start. And unfortunately, he knows her words have the power to hurt him exactly because they are true. Yes, Erik is unstable. But, he rationalizes, without anyone giving him a chance, Erik has no hope for anything else except the bitter shell he's currently set to become. "You'll see, Moira," Charles replies, his voice much steadier than his anger (and, he admits, his despair that he might not be able to save Erik). "He will impress you."

 

_Anywhere, USA, over the course of two weeks_

"Better we find them, than the government," Erik often tells Charles, as they sit on a train, or in a cab, or on an airplane. "Don't forget that." Erik's voice is soft and low, just as his head hangs low, brows furrowed, eyes filled with too many emotions to clearly identify.

It is times like this when Erik's sadness slips in at the edge of Charles' control, and Charles can't help but remember being rounded up--no, can't help but remember _Erik_ being rounded up, Charles wasn't there at all--like cattle. 

Charles isn't sure what it is about Erik that makes it so easy to slip up and enter his mind. He's normally much better at keeping up the walls he's built to protect his thoughts, but there is something about the easy friendship between the two that makes him want to be as easily read by Erik as it is for Charles to read the thoughts of others. It's times like that when the walls come down, and Erik's mind filters in.

"I know what it means to you, to go along with their requests, my friend," Charles says, eyes locked on to Erik's. "I thank you."

There's a pause before Erik answers. "I don't do this because they requested it, Charles. I do this because _you_ requested it."

Erik's stare is intense, and for a second Charles feels like there is something he should be doing--anything he should be doing--other than staring back. Charles blinks a few times, trying to clear his head, and the moment passes.

 

The government is not willing to increase the budget for their operation, despite the frequency of their travel, which means that Erik and Charles are allocated just enough money for one room, one night at a hotel. The two had shrugged upon first hearing the news, mature enough adults to merely say in unison, "I hope you don't snore," and be done with it.

The first time they travel together overnight, Charles wakes himself with screams, and finds Erik cradling him in his arms, trying to comfort him.

"My god," Erik says, accent slightly thicker than usual in the early hours of the morning. "What was it?"

Charles shakes his head, rocks back and forth, and doesn't mention the metal clamps he felt on his face--on _Erik's_ face--doesn't mention that it was, ironically enough, Erik's own nightmares that drew the screams to wake them both.

That day, when they leave, Charles discreetly pays for the metal damage in the room.

 

A few weeks later, Erik has another dream so powerful it wakes Charles. It's just after their first failed trip, and the air between them that night was heavy with regret, with disappointment. They barely spoke at dinner.

It's not a nightmare this time.

Instead, Charles wakes up in a tangle of bedsheets, panting, flushed, sweaty--on edge from everything Erik did to the dream version of Charles.

He spends the rest of the night on the floor, and in the morning awkwardly mumbles something about Erik keeping all the sheets to himself.

 

_The Xavier Mansion, days after the attack on the CIA_

The dreams don't stop, and they only grow more frequent when the team relocates to Charles' mansion. It becomes so distracting that Charles even considers moving Erik to a room further from his (as opposed to the room _right next to his own_ \--why had he ever thought that was a good idea?), but he ultimately decides against it, realizing such a move will destroy the trust he has begun to build with the other man.

A trust Charles has desperately begun to crave. He's known it since the day Erik walked out of the CIA--that Charles needs Erik more than Erik needs him. That Charles's need to save Erik from himself has started to define him. Charles has always had a bit of a messiah complex, but with Erik, it feels like more than that--perhaps, he rationalizes, because the two are connected on such a deep level.

When he and Erik have their semi-regular chess games (and by semi-regular he means that it is a rare night if they are _not_ seated by the fire playing chess), Charles keeps the brick walls of his mind firmly in place so as not to cheat, but finds that for the first time it is not a chore; the conversation is so relaxing and refreshingly unexpected, that it is not a chore to keep up the walls, to allow himself to be surprised by the man sitting across from him. The two talk about anything and everything, in a way he and Raven never could. 

A voice in his head whispers that is because he has always treated Raven as a child, has never allowed her to grow up in his mind, but he pushes it away.

They have countless debates on the future of mutants, for example, and Charles' need to keep Erik beside him leads to impassioned speeches about the good of humanity and the need to be the best men--better than any human. To those who much is given, much is expected, after all.

Charles understands Erik's resistance, his anger, his paranoia--who wouldn't be that way, after what he has experienced?--but drowns with the need to convince Erik to become something other than the monsters he has witnessed.

 

_The Mansion, on the brink of nuclear war_

He finds he is ready to accept what he has always known--that it has always been anything, _anything_ for Erik--when the threat of nuclear war goes from "sometime in the future" to "tomorrow".

Charles is--despite his attempts to be a leader, to gather the troops, to act as a parental figure to these children without homes, hell, despite his messiah complex--a shy, reserved, and cautious man. Thanks to his gifts, he has never had to make a decision without being able to accurately predict the outcome, which has given him the illusion of confidence, but that is all it is--an illusion.

Which means that in this situation, where all the variables are known except for how he himself will react to the aftermath, he has been too fearful to proceed down the road he and Erik have always been walking towards, since that first encounter in the water.

Yes, Charles is afraid. Afraid that he might form a connection with someone who is always ready to leave--who might leave if things go sour tomorrow. To form a connection with someone who is so focused on an idea that it blots out everything else in his mind. To form a connection with someone who is both too like himself and too unlike himself for this to ever work.

As Charles moves his pawn into place, he locks eyes with Erik, and an unspoken moment passes between them. He is not yet ready to take that final step, and hopes Erik can read Charles' mind as well as Erik has always said he can. Thankfully, Erik shows no such reservation. It's true, then, it seems, that Erik can tell what Charles is thinking in the most important moments.

With a growl, Erik moves forward, grabs a fistful of Charles' hair, and pulls him in for a rough kiss.

 

_An unknown beach, after successfully averting nuclear war_

Charles--as much as he'd hoped it would not end like this--had known there was no way he and Erik could continue as they had, for despite his attempts to convince Erik humans could accept them, each failed attempt had further convinced Charles that their differences might be irreconcilable. 

Had always known that in the end, when the humans made their move, he and Erik would be left on opposite sides of the battlefield. 

Charles had simply hoped it would not happen this quickly.

When the humans prove Erik correct, he knows there is nothing he can do to convince Erik to spare them, even as he shouts hopelessly that Erik be the better man--knows that to Erik, the phrase has an entirely different meaning.

 

Charles feels robbed of more than just his legs.

 

_Sometime in the near future_

Every so often, when he is sleeping after an especially draining day, Xavier's subciousness mind takes over. 

It reaches out, always searching for the same thing--the same person--that same connection he cannot replace.

Does not _want_ to replace.

Sometimes he finds it, finds that Magneto has slept without the helmet, outside of his shielded quarters, and in their dreams, the Americans never sent their missiles. Moira never fired her gun. 

Instead it ends simply: Shaw dead, a mutually celebrated victory, a true companionship.


End file.
